


just shy of the wind

by eeveepkmnfan



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection, Other, Self-Acceptance, Self-Reflection, haven't played any of the three main routes yet haha, no spoilers pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19290667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeveepkmnfan/pseuds/eeveepkmnfan
Summary: On Silas, their name, and how they and Asra dance across each other. Never quite touching; just shy of a wind that would let their two hearts touch.He kisses them again, on the cheeks - once, twice, thrice for good luck (and there is a magic in this, too).





	just shy of the wind

If Asra was a night sky full of stars, far apart and yet close enough to touch - then Silas was the earth under your feet, patient and unyielding… and yet, the places where the two of them bled into each other felt so lonely all of a sudden. It was like a dance, the two of them reaching out and holding and then one of them stepping back - it wasn’t just Asra who had fears and hesitations regarding their relationship, and where it was headed. They wished for the past, for those transient few months when they weren’t anyone, was just another nobody, because then - 

They remember kind eyes and a hand leading them past dirty alleyways and the garbage cans they’d been sleeping behind, a soft voice that was somehow comforting as it told them that they had a choice now, if they wanted it; but the one they treasure the most, the one they hold impossibly tight against their chest for fear of losing this too - 

They remember a suggestion, and a name: Silas, Asra had said, because you are of the woods. Your magic spells it clear for all to see. 

They’ve never been prouder than then as when healing a small cut on Asra’s cheek (careless, please don’t scare me like that), a rush of excitement and relief and joy because their best friend, their teacher, their love kept wove around their heart - he says, awed, Silas - it suits you. 

To Asra, they are beautiful and loved and something more than what they were. But lately, lately, he’s been slipping out the door and in conversations, his excuses pry from his lips as if painful; they can tell he hates doing this to the both of them as much as they hate living it. But if they are Silas (and they are), handmade and worn, then they have learned enough to know that sometimes your love pricks at you, picks at you when in your arms - they were confused at first, but now, Silas knows what they want.

It is so frightening, love, in all of its myriad and muddled kaleidoscopes. How can I want you so, they used to think, when I don’t even know who I am? Because here is a secret, one that they dearly hope their fretful Asra never learns: sometimes, when they catch him turning the door and giving them one last loving smile as he leaves… would you still like me if not for Silas?

Because how can they be bright, shining Asra’s Silas when they themself are - are so clearly not? They’re afraid, and confused, and left wanting - because they know this is untrue, has heard Asra whisper similar agreements into their hair, holding them like he won’t let go but that is also untruth -

Asra is a pretty good liar, but Silas has had practice. It’s hard to completely know yourself, because if you keep changing, will you still be yourself, or would you be someone new? It’s stupid, but sometimes they sit in front of a mirror and practice smiling and pracice imagining things Asra would say if it were a stranger instead. It almost doesn’t hurt.

But they know (they know) that they _are_ Silas. They are, not because Asra made them, but in fact, because they’ve decided that as long as their magic still sings green, green, green - they will still be Silas of the forest of healing of creation and of the _earth_. Their name means so many things, but it isn’t fear anymore. 

They can be who they are, and Asra will always love them. Not for their name, but for them. And right now, they want to be brave, want to be someone who loves Asra back. 

They do; they always have, ever since he took them home and made them live. It’s only right that they remind him - 

The two of them are stronger wrapped up and around each other than wrenched away. Vines of their magic slowly (patiently) wind with his free-flowing pool, and his light is so fond as it covers them head to toe in affection and apologies and yearning. He still reaches out to them, and they still reach back. 

Purple eyes catch them as he stops in front of the door. They can’t help but smile as they stop in front of him.

He curves a thumb around their cheek and lips touch their forehead; he leans back, about to turn - they reel him back in and the both of them laugh as they hold each other there before the doorway. Early morning birdsong is clear even through the kitchen’s open window.

“Come back soon,” they say, heart in their throat as they place a kiss to his. He shivers, once, and inch by inch, takes his warmth with him. They are left cold in its absence; winter bereft of spring, a silent and creeping chill using their chest for bedding.

Asra kisses them again, then on their cheeks - once, twice, thrice for good luck (and there is a magic in this, too) - and his voice is quiet like the leaves as he replies, “Soon. I promise you, Silas.” And he must see how they don’t quite believe that, how they simply take it as it is - words.

Their Asra turns firm, gentle eyes on them, and it is the first day all over again. “You’re the most important person in my life, Silas. Please, believe that if nothing else.”

And they do. 

“Stay safe,” was all they could say, stalling and losing more of him second by second. His smile said everything his words didn’t, and they felt safe and loved and real.

As he closed the door, they almost said it back. I love you.

Someday, they would meet him halfway - somewhere between cut cloth and fragile dandelion seeds. But not today.

Silas smiled to themself and thought, soon. They just had to be able to take those few steps forward. 

They turned around, opened up the shop, and did just that.


End file.
